Enclosed Places
by Luna16
Summary: Sark and Sydney. Sometimes there are worse things to fear than the dark, epecially when you're trapped with your enemy. Complete.
1. Day 0 Darkness

Title: Enclosed Places / Exposed Spaces

Author: Luna

Rating: R/NC-17

Ship: Sydney/Sark

Timeline: Set before Phase 1.

Distribution: SD-1, Cover Me, Surrender: Syd and Sark, FF.net

A/N: This is for the Cover Me June/July Challenge. The first story is told from Sark's POV, and the second from Sydney's. Just a warning, it's a little dark.

Any and all comments are greatly appreciated!

I just want to give a huge thank you to Amy (alud) for betaing this for me in record time! Thank you so much!

A/N2:  For Sypgal44: I have read Atlas Shrugged. It's one of my favorite books. In fact, there are parts in this story, The Contradiction and The Flag that are tributes to it. J

**Enclosed Places**

**Day 0 - Darkness**

Darkness. Complete and utter darkness. That's the first thing I notice, anyway.  But the realization that my head and shoulders ache horribly, follows soon after. I try to open my eyes, to see if that will solve part of my problems, but that in fact doubles them.

It turns out that my eyes are already open.

I move onto my next problem; the ache in my shoulders. It takes me a moment to catalogue the location of all my limbs and the position of my body without any visual cues, but after a time, I manage to do so. At least it answers the question as to why my shoulders are screaming at me. It turns out that I am sitting on the floor and my hands are secured behind me. Judging by the chafing and soreness in my wrists, I can only assume that I am handcuffed.

Which brings me to my aching head. 

I've been captured. 

No, wait a minute…

…we've been captured.

I hear a small moan somewhere to my right, but there is a slight echo so it is difficult for me to tell if the moan is small because she's far away or because she's in the same condition as I am in.

She moans again and I hear some shuffling. She must be only a few feet away. I hear a sharp intake of breath as she makes the final move into consciousness and her movements increase slightly.

"Sydney--" I try to speak but my throat is so dry that I'm sure I sounded unintelligible.

"What--?" she responds with the same dry voice, confirming that she is not very far and likely in the same shape that I am in.

She tries again. "Where am I?"

I fill her in on what I know so far. "We've been captured Sydney."

I hear her groan slightly and lie back down.


	2. Day 1 A Horn in the Distance

**Day 1 – A Horn in the Distance**

"I must say Sydney, that given that we are stuck here alone, together, you are being decidedly uncooperative."

"Shut-up Sark," comes the disembodied voice from the darkness.

I smile a little. The pain in my shoulders has become so severe that it borders on numbness. I desperately want to move my arms around, but they are still secured behind me.  My stomach is grumbling for food, my throat is parched, I'm freezing and to top it all off, I have to urinate horribly.  But other than that little has changed in the situation since yesterday. 

We explored our surroundings as best as we could but all that we were able to ascertain is that we've been locked in a metal container of sorts. We paced it off and estimated that it is approximately forty feet across and eight feet wide. That was good for about five minutes of activity. Trying to determine if there were any latches or holes that we could make use of took a little bit longer, but needless to say, we found none. The thought of where our oxygen is coming from is a bit of a concern, so we've tried to limit our activity.

Now all I can do to take my mind off of my discomfort is to annoy my unwilling partner in this mess.

"Just think, now we can really get to know each other." I smile to myself and wait.

Sydney doesn't disappoint. Her voice is dripping with sarcasm. "I can hardly wait. It's a pity that my hands are tied behind my back to prevent me from gouging out my ear drums."

I laugh quietly to myself.

Suddenly, a door opens and a bright light finds its way directly into my eye. My brain screams from the overload of stimulus after nearly a day of complete darkness.

In the confusion around me I can hear people mishandling Sydney, but there's little I can do about it.

Rough hands pull me up by the shoulders and force the relatively pleasant numbness back as my muscles seize from the sudden jostling. It appears that I'm being carried out of our dark prison. Well, at least perhaps I can find out what this is all about.

Sometime later, I open my eyes and the throbbing pain in my head tells me that once again, my captors managed to knock me out. I look around to try and take in my surroundings but my right eye is swollen nearly shut.  My arms feel like they are being pulled out of their sockets as they are still handcuffed behind me. The big problem is, of course, that I am also secured to a metal chair, the back of which is forcing its way into my armpit.

I've definitely been happier.

With my left eye, I manage to ascertain that I'm in a small room, by myself. For a brief moment I wonder where Sydney is before I force myself to push those thoughts aside and continue my visual exploration. A single, caged light bulb casts a yellow glow about the windowless room. An odd horn sounds in the distance.

The door opens, abruptly admitting four men. The first of which is kind enough to greet me with a pistol whip to my head.

After some time my vision starts to clear. The pistol-whip man is standing in the corner with a smug look on his face. I can feel someone behind me and there's another man guarding the small door to my right.

But most important, is the man standing directly in front of me. He's obviously the one in charge. He's not a big man, but he certainly has a strong presence about him. I study him as best as I can, but I can't place him. He's of Asian descent, that much is obvious, but I don't recall dealing with him before.

He comes up to me, grabs my chin and painfully jerks my head so that I have no choice but to look up at him.

Foreign words rush out of his mouth, no doubt aimed directly at me, but I think that I have been hit in the head too many times today to translate immediately.

This is so very dangerous.

The man in front of me is angry; whether just at my being or my lack of response, I'm not sure. He signals to the man behind me, who painfully pushes my head forward, dislocating my right shoulder.

But I've been taught to compartmentalize pain right? I've been taught how to push aside the feeling of a needle injecting something horrid into my veins. I've been taught how to lock away all the truly important information in my head so that it can never be reached.

But even when you compartmentalize the pain, you still feel it.

When you feel the drugs coursing through your system, you still feel violated.

When you lock away your true self in the hollows of your mind, you still feel the pain of being.

Just because you've been taught how to control all these things, doesn't really make it easier. The truth of the matter is that you still have to live through it.

So that's what I am concentrating on doing now. Living through it.


	3. Day 2 Foul Tasting Water

**Day 2 – Foul Tasting Water**

I groan as consciousness is forced back upon me. I can feel my face pressed against cool metal and my body aches terribly. The darkness is back. Even with my eyes wide open I can see nothing but complete darkness.

I move slightly and realize that my hands are no longer handcuffed behind my back. But as I move to sit up my head spins and I fall back down. Someone next to me catches me and at least prevents my face from colliding with the metal floor.

"Sark. Are you ok?"

Sydney's asks me guardedly as she helps me sit back up by leaning me against the metal wall.

I force myself to answer. "I'm fine." 

"Did you find out who they are and what they want?"

The spinning in my head has only started to subside, but the hard edge to her voice threatens to bring a new headache forth. I can tell she's sitting next to me so I reach towards her. My clumsy fingers on my working arm find her face, and I place a finger across her lips to shush her.

Her lips feel soft under my callused finger, but I don't have the energy to really enjoy it. My hand drops off her face and to the floor before she has a chance to swat it away. 

"Shhh" I whisper to her.

She gets up and moves away from me, but gives me peace from her questions for a while.

In the tense silence I recall the reason why my right shoulder is screaming bloody murder at me. 

But I can't do this alone.

I wait a moment for an alternative to present itself, but I can come up with nothing else. 

I force myself to take a deep breath. "Sydney—"

"What?" Comes the sharp rely. She must think that I'm a much stronger person than I actually am. I'm not eager to disillusion her.

"My shoulder is dislocated. Could I trouble you to help me with it?"

She doesn't respond. Oh how I wish for some light so that I might see her reaction.

Her hands find me in the dark and travel up my right arm. Her touch is sure and confident as she palpates around my shoulder joint trying to determine where the dislocation has occurred. 

"Lie down on your side," she instructs me, her tone no longer harsh, but certainly not friendly. I comply and try to force myself to relax. This will be unpleasant enough as it is without my muscles seizing on me.

As I lie on the cold metal floor, I take several deep breaths to try and relax my muscles. Sydney waits a moment for me to ready myself before she takes my right arm and starts to apply some traction to it. I want to scream at her to be gentle as the pain shoots up my arm and down my back, but I force myself not to cry out.

There's an audible clunk as my bone slips back into its socket and the pain immediately begins to lessen. I cannot help the sigh of relief that escapes my mouth and I try to sit back up again.

There is silence for a little while and I can hear her pacing about.

Finally she speaks again. "When they brought you back they also brought us a bucket and lid so that we could go to the bathroom. I put it in the corner to the left and farthest from the door. They also undid my handcuffs. But I couldn't see anything about where we are or who has us captured because they put a light in my eyes before they came in."

The spinning in my head seems to have calmed down a little, and I am able to recall a bit from my excursion.

"We're in a sea container, on a ship, heading to Hong Kong I believe, but I'm not entirely sure. My Mandarin is a little rusty and I can only remember parts of the conversation. Did they by any chance, drop off anything to drink?" My throat feels like sandpaper.

I hear more shuffling around me. Finally I feel Sydney's arm flailing about trying to find me. She finds my arm and places a small bucket in my hands. I can feel liquid sloshing around at the bottom of it. "I hope this isn't the same pail they gave you for--"

"It's not, but don't think the idea wasn't tempting," she replies sharply but maybe with a small sense of humor. 

Oh don't get me wrong, I'm sure that she still hates me, but I think she also realizes the extent of our situation. We were on a mission for SD-6. We failed and were captured. She and I both know that SD-6 isn't in the habit of going out its way to rescue operatives. In fact, they might even do what they can to eliminate us if they feel that we can expose them in any way. So unless the CIA comes to rescue her, then we are on our own. And to be honest, I'm not holding my breath for the CIA. 

"What did they want from you?" she asks in a gentler tone than before.

I appreciate the gesture. "I don't know. They just mistreated me and asked me the usual questions of who I am and who I work for. When I didn't respond, they mistreated me a little bit more. The next thing I remember is waking up next to you."

I can hear her sharp intake of breath as the phrasing of my words sinks in, and then I feel her move away. 

She stays away from me for the rest of the day.


	4. Day 4 Small Favors

A/N: I actually have this story and the sequel already complete, and the two stories push over 30,000 words. So don't worry, the chapters will get longer. I will also be posting large clumps of this relatively quickly (power outages permitting J ).

Thanks for the feedback, though! I really appreciate it!

**Day 4 – Small Favors**

A slight routine has been established. We sit around in the complete darkness and sleep or meditate for hours on end. We trade the occasional jibe, but she would be so disappointed in herself if I told her that I've noticed less venom in her responses. 

One of us always keeps the water bucket by our side and we pass it off to the other person when they ask for it. It ensures that we don't accidentally knock it over. It may be the vilest tasting water I have ever tried, but it's also the only thing we have. Unless you count the occasional slop that they toss into our jail.

She hardly makes any physical contact with me. That's really too bad though, because it is freezing in here. I know she feels it too because I hear her teeth chattering every once in a while.

Yesterday, we found out where our air is coming in from. It would appear that there are a few small holes in the far corner of the container. We found these holes when it started to rain. It appears that the holes will let water in, but no sunlight. How that engineering feat was accomplished, I don't think I will ever know. We tried to see if we could use the newly discovered holes to escape, but all we got for our efforts were cuts around our fingers as the metal dug into our flesh.

So now we are nursing our wounds and trying to keep our wits about us. I wish she would sit beside me though. If nothing else, at least we could provide heat for each other. And there's always the chance that it would stop her incessant pacing back and forth.

But the only time she is really civil to me is when she asks me to hum so that she can go to the washroom. She can't stand to let me listen to her use the washroom pail. 

So I hum loudly and let her freeze to death by herself.  Women make no sense to me at all sometimes.


	5. Day 5 Habits

**Day 5 - Habits**

"So what's your name?" asks the disembodied voice not too far from me. It's the first personal question that she's asked since this all began. It figures that it's the hardest one for me to answer.

I try and answer truthfully. "It doesn't matter, does it? You're always going to call me Sark anyway. It's now your habit."

She doesn't respond, and we spend the day in relative silence. 

Maybe I should have just told her.


	6. Day 6 Isolation

**Day 6 - Isolation**

She came and sat beside me earlier today. She sat so close that our arms touched. She didn't say anything, so neither did I. To be quite honest, it felt like a relief to feel another human being beside me. The fact that it was her sitting next to me was even nicer.

The darkness is absolute except for the odd times when the guards come to drop off some food. I think it's the moments of half sight though, that are the scariest. In those brief seconds when light is allowed to penetrate our small enclosure our eyes drink in the sights and our brains burn the stark images forever into our minds.

The image of Sydney's pale face with a vivid scar across her cheek as she stood beside me the last time they opened the door will haunt me forever. 

But I don't dare ask her how she got the scar. Asking her a personal question would send her bolting away from me.

I've never tried to hide the fact that she fascinates me, even though in my line of work, emotional attachments are best avoided at all costs. 

Especially in my line of work.

These half sights though, do much to put us off balance and even heighten the feelings of isolation. It is perhaps easier for us to mentally escape the dire predicament that we are in when we are immersed in the darkness. 

It's when I picture her haunted eyes and tangled hair that I can no longer pretend that everything is well.

We may very well die here.

But then she came and sat beside me. I can feel a small amount of warmth from where our arms touch. 

I didn't move away and she is still there. I don't think I'm ever going to move from here.


	7. Day 7 Steady Breathing

**Day 7 – Steady Breathing**

She leaned on me a little while ago when she fell asleep. I listen to her steady breathing, and it seems to help clear my mind so that I can think. I'm not willing to give up so easily. There must be some way out of this disaster.

My musings and Sydney's sleep are both cut short however as the metal door swings open and our eyes are flooded with light. Before I have time to even react though, I feel the butt of a rifle making contact with the side of my head.

After that, I am blissfully unaware.


	8. Day 9 Control

**Day 9 – Control**

She's sitting next to me with my head cradled in her lap. I force myself to sit up but it's hard. Images from the previous day flash through my mind like a disjointed movie.

She helps me to stabilize myself against the wall. "Are you ok?" she asks.

Somehow I find my voice. It's raw, like I've been screaming. The only words that I can find are the thoughts that kept running through my mind while they beat me. "They don't want you, they want me. If you play your cards right, Sydney, you can get out of here when we dock."

"What are you talking about? Why do they want you? What happened?"

I can hardly concentrate on my words, but I know that I need something to take my mind off of the pain that is wracking my body. "Did you hear about when I killed Quan Li?"

"I saw the surveillance," she says flatly. Probably unhappy to have my past actions brought back to her attention. "You destroyed the FTL, at the same time that the offices of SD-6 came under attack."

I nod though she can't see me. "It appears that his cousin Jian Xie is less than thrilled with me at the moment."

She is silent for a moment. "Is that what this is about? Revenge?"

"Sometimes it is the simplest reason that is the most deadly." I pause. I should have thought of that two years ago. Perhaps I could have avoided this mess now. "I think that he set us up from the very beginning."

"So there was never any Rambaldi artifact to buy?"

"No. He must have heard that I was working for Arvin Sloane now so he set up the meet to capture me. But that means that they have no interest in you."

I think of what I am trying to tell her, and I feel physically ill. I can remember the cruel look in Jian Xie's eyes. A man with nothing to lose is the very worst kind of man. I remember how his mouth twisted into a malicious smile as he traced a knife across my hand. 

No man should ever have to see the whites of his knuckle bones.

But she's strong. If she can play them, then she'll be fine. She'll get out of here alive. I think it's probably the only way.

"As I said, if you play your cards right, you should be able to get out of here relatively unharmed when we dock. If I remember correctly, the FTL doesn't place a lot of stock in women. They just use them to adorn their arms or bedrooms as the case may be. They didn't seem interested in you at all when they had me out there. They don't even realize that you are with SD-6. They probably just think you are my girlfriend or an unlucky passerby."

The silence that fills the room now is loaded. I'm not sure if she really grasps what I'm telling her.

"So when you say to play my cards right you mean…"

No, she understands. She's a smart girl. I force myself to continue, pacing my words and speaking calmly. "Yes. When they see you in the light of day, they may get the idea all on their own. If not, encourage them. If it's just one of them, then I'd suggest going down on him, if he lets you. That puts you in control. Then when the time is right, I'm sure you can find a way to incapacitate him. If there's more than one, do what you have to do to entice the leader. If it's Jian Xie himself, all the better. He won't want to bed you with the other men present; that would put him on the same level as his men. He'll take you to a closet or his office maybe. Then you can take him on when he's sufficiently distracted."

Do I hear what I'm saying? I want her to give herself to a man who laughed when he broke my finger. Maybe I am as horrible as she thinks.

But it's better to live. The ends justify the means; that's what they've always said. Wounds can be healed. Death cannot.

"You want me to let them rape me?" She's angry with me, but I can also tell she's scared. She's drawn a line in the sand somewhere along the way of things she will and will not do. 

I think that perhaps it's up to me to erase that line for her.

I answer her with more of an edge to my voice than I intended. "It won't be rape. You can't think of it like that. Rape is about control and you will be in control, not them. You just have to compartmentalize it and deal with it later. At least you will be alive. Trust me. I know the FTL. I studied them intensely before I led the team into their headquarters. You don't want to be going where they will take me."

For all the good that my research did me. I had known about Jian Xie and dismissed him as being irrelevant.

She gets up angrily and leaves me in silence. I lean my head against the wall behind me and nurse my hand. The bleeding has stopped, but I can feel the cut throbbing painfully. 

I can't even feel my broken finger.

I have a feeling that I am back to square one with Sydney, and it bothers me more than I think it should. She thinks that I am playing games with her. But I'm just trying to save her life. 

I eventually close my eyes and allow my exhaustion to take over. 


	9. Day 10 Doubt

**Day 10 - Doubt**

My perception of time is becoming skewed. I hear her moving towards me, and she slides down the wall so that she's sitting next to me. "Are you sure that's the only way?" she asks, as if no time has passed in our conversation. Her voice is tinged with fear and doubt. 

Maybe no time has passed though. The pain in my hand is making it hard for me to tell.

"I'm sure. Unless we can find a way out of this before we dock, I think that will be your only option. Trust me, if I thought they were so inclined, I would try that tactic myself. I've done worse for less. It doesn't matter though. Do what you have to and then escape. I'm sure that you can reach a safe house in Hong Kong relatively easily after that." I'm impressed with myself that I didn't say which safe house. She can pick whichever organization she wants.

"And you?"

Is that a note of concern I hear in her voice? I try not to laugh. "You won't be able to take all the people down. There are at least five armed men guarding the entrance to this container and so far I have counted over fifty other men on my way to and from the room they use for interrogation. Do what you have to and get free. It's me that they are after anyway. They shouldn't pursue you too hard."

I can tell by how she's stiffening beside me that she doesn't like what I'm saying, but she doesn't argue. 

But nor does she get up and leave me.


	10. Day 12 The Satisfaction of Being Right

**Day 12 – The Satisfaction of Being Right**

"I can't just leave you here," she says to me quietly.

I try not to laugh. I'm feeling moderately better today. I think my broken finger is starting to heal. Oh well. Good for now, bad if I ever get out of here and they have to break it again so that it can be reset. I think the drugs they injected me with might also be leaving my system. That's sort of bad news as well though, because that means that they will likely be back for me today. I don't know how much more of this I can take. All this sensory deprivation followed by extreme sensory overload as they shock me or beat me or cut me.

I can feel the edges of my brain coming undone. And that would be so very, very bad.

Dare I trust her to help me out in the only way that she can, or rather, the only way that she might be willing to?

"There's one thing you can do."

"What?" she asks wearily, like she is suddenly reminded of who she is offering to help. Well, I can't really say that I blame her.

"If we don't get out of this together, once you get back to LA, I would like you to go to the corner of East Fourth Street and South San Pedro Street. There's a house with a red roof directly across the street from a gas station. The house is abandoned and it is covered in graffiti. On the third window, left of the front door I need you to draw this symbol."

I take her hand and it is very cold. I hold her hand palm up and draw a symbol on her palm using a finger from my good hand. I hadn't realized that touching her hand like this would cause my heart to start beating wildly or the temperature to rise so quickly but it does. She leaves her hand in mine for a moment before moving it away. 

She's remembered who she thinks I am.

"I'm not going to help you put some crazy plan in motion--"

I lean my head against the wall again. There's no point in explaining, she would never believe me, but I honestly believe that my options are quickly running out. We've been gone for almost two weeks. There's been no rescue. Once we dock they will have even more men guarding me and escape will be impossible. When they transport me to their compound, I will certainly wish I were dead. This is the least I can do. 

"It won't set a plan in motion. This is merely one of the ways I have of telling my superiors that I have been compromised. I hold within my head certain pieces of valuable data. I can't guarantee that they won't be able to pull it out of me because now that's their goal. They are going to strip my mind down to its core and uncover every piece of intel that I have. Then they are going to barter and trade that information, so that they can try and rebuild the FTL. Once you place this symbol on the window though, my superiors will reset all passwords and code words that I know."

"SD-6 doesn't use this type of information drop."

"It's not for SD-6."

"Is this for my mother's organization? I thought it was destroyed."

"You are correct, it has been destroyed. This isn't for her."

The silence is charged again. "My God, Sark. How many employers to do you have?!" she almost whispers her accusation.

I reply quietly. "Just one that I am loyal to. Just like you."

I think she understands what I am trying to tell her, but I'm not sure. "I know that you're a double agent for the CIA. I know and I have not betrayed your secret. Does that make it any easier for you to trust me?"

This time she gets up and walks away.

A few hours go by. I am right. They have come back for me today. Somehow I don't feel much satisfaction in the knowledge that I was right.


	11. Day 13 Slow Unraveling

**Day 13 – Slow Unraveling**

I can feel my face up against some thing warm. I think she has my face in her lap again. I can't be entirely sure though because with consciousness comes unbelievable pain. I think my left ankle is shattered. I remember them taking a sledge hammer to it before I passed out into darkness. I try to sit up, but I fail miserably. I collapse into her lap, and I'm overcome with shivering. Or maybe they're minor convulsions. I'm not entirely sure.

She holds my head gently, and I'm more thankful for that then I can possibly hope to explain. I'm starting to unravel. I can no longer separate the various parts of my mind. I cannot push the pain back and carry on. The only thing I can do right now is lie here and feel her next to me.

And try not to cry out from the pain.


	12. Day 14 A Profile

**Day 14 – A Profile**

I stray between consciousness and blissful unconsciousness until I feel cool fingers on my temples that push me one way or another. Last time they lulled me back into sleep. Now they bring me awake.

I try and stir, to shift my weight but she stops me. "Don't move. I've tried to tie up your ankle using strips from my clothes but you're better off lying as still as possible. Your convulsions have stopped and your breathing and pulse are better today, but you shouldn't stress yourself anymore than you need to. You were in pretty rough shape there yesterday."

There's only one way she could have diagnosed me in the complete darkness that surrounds us. She would have had to comb my entire body with her hands. I'm touched that she took the time to do that. We weren't exactly friends before this mission started, and I haven't given her any reasons to change that so far. 

At least, I hope I haven't. I hope I haven't unraveled that much that I would have spoken unintentionally.

"Thank you," I manage to croak out before she helps me to sit up so that I can take a sip of our foul tasting water.

We sit in silence for some time.

"Who do you work for then?" she asks me casually, as if trying to take my mind off of my physical anguish and I remember asking her to write the symbol on the window.

Briefly, I consider lying to her, but I change my mind. I recognize that impulse as my last vestige of self preservation. She's not going to believe me, and it's going to hurt. But at this point, I might welcome the emotional pain, simply to contrast the great physical pain that I'm in. 

And, there is the odd chance that it might help my cause; if she believes me that is.

"I'm MI6." I say quietly. She doesn't respond right away. "I don't expect you to believe me –"

But she interrupts. "You're British SIS?" Her voice is full of suspicion and disbelief.

I sigh. I anticipated no less. "Yes. I was recruited eight years ago, when I was sixteen."

"You're full of it. Why would the SIS recruit someone so young? Are you a super genius?"

I try not to laugh bitterly. "My IQ is relatively high, but I don't think I qualify as a super genius. I just fit a profile. That's all."

"What profile would that be? Psychopath?"

I chuckle sarcastically. "Sydney what would I have done these last few weeks without your sardonic wit?" I shift slightly and a sharp pain travels up my leg all the way to my spine. I find myself reluctant to talk about it, now that the moment of truth has arrived. "No, I have no family, they died when I was ten. I have an above average IQ, and a knack for getting myself into tight places and then out again. Ironically enough they recruited me the one time they caught me. I had tried to rob the Tower of London. Needless to say, I was not completely successful. My friend tripped and set off the alarm and then cried to the police about everything…" I pause as I hear some wheezing coming from the person next to me. "Are you laughing at me Sydney or are you suffering from acute asthma?"

She starts to laugh harder and it momentarily lightens the mood that's been hanging over us.

"You tried to steal the Crown Jewels?"

"The recruiter was actually sufficiently impressed that I had broken into Waterloo Barracks, that he was willing to recruit me even though I had failed."

The laughter slowly dies down until it stops altogether. It is some moments before she talks again, her voice quiet. "How can I believe you? With everything you've done? With all the people you've killed?"

I pause a minute as I try to phrase my answer. I have one, but I don't think it will make it easier for her to understand how I could do the things that I have done. "To their public, all governments will claim that the ends do not justify the means. All governments assert that they have lines that they will not cross. In private however, away from parliamentary oversight, you know as well as I do, that they state the very opposite. That's why the CIA does certain things and that's why my government does certain things. They tell us that the ends do in fact justify the means, and therefore to use any means necessary to accomplish the mission that we are given."

There is silence for a minute.

"How long have you known?" her voice is sharp.

I sigh again. "Almost since the beginning. Haladaki worked for your mother and she shared all of her intel with me. Remember, I took your fried Mr. Tippin from CIA custody."

She stands up quickly and leaves my side. I think perhaps she had forgotten about that. "Sydney, I had no choice. I am a deep undercover agent. I have no support from my Agency. In fact there are only two people at MI6 who even know that I work for them. I was tasked with infiltrating Irina Derevko's organization which I did. Then I was tasked with infiltrating SD-6. So I did that as well. You know as I do that there is no room for sentimentality or leniency in this business. I needed to be cold, calm and ruthless to gain their trust. So I did what I had to do."

Her silence forces me to continue. "That's why I so often tried to recruit you to my cause before I joined SD-6. There were many times when we were working at odds with one another when we did not have to be."

"That's no excuse—"

"No, it's not. And I accepted that there would be things that I would have to do that I didn't necessarily want to when I accepted the assignment. But that's why it is so important that you leave that symbol on the window for me. Because I work in deep cover, and so few know about me, the codes that I know are the only things that let me access MI6. There are no biometric scanners that will identify me and I have no badge that I can flash. The codes are my only safety. But if they manage to pull them out of me, then they will be able to access all levels of MI6 as well. There will be nothing to stop them."

Sydney stops her pacing in front of me. "But if I nullify your codes with this symbol and you do manage to escape…"

"Then I will be on my own and forever an outlaw even to my own government. I will have no proof that will allow me to identify myself unless I can some way make contact with my two handlers. But once that symbol is placed, my handlers will be split up and moved to different assignments. I will be alone with only the alias that everyone now knows me as."

"But—"

I've been interrupting her a lot during this conversation, but it is my confession. I figure that I am allowed certain liberties. I force false bravado into my voice. "Don't worry though love. I don't think that I will be long in this world after that happens to get too depressed about the matter."

"If they manage to break into your mind, you might tell them about me. They could sell that information to Sloane."

Perhaps her self-centeredness should bother me, but it doesn't. It's a trait that we both share. "Yes, but at that point I will probably be telling them the color of my favorite underwear. If you nullify my codes then they will have no way of attaining any collaboration. In fact, if they believe that the codes I gave them are false, then they will not be able to trust any of the information that they managed to extract from me."

The silence that settles now is complete as she contemplates my secrets, and I contemplate my likely death. But what more can there be to say?

"I'm sorry about Tippin." I say at last. "I wish that I had found some other way, now."

She doesn't respond but she sits back down next to me, though not touching me this time.

Finally she responds softly as well. She sounds like she wants to cry. "I'm sorry to hear about your family." 


	13. Day 15 Blood is Flowing Where Tears Sho...

A/N: Here we go. Thanks for all the comments so far!

**Day 15 - Blood Is Flowing Where Tears Should Have Been**

I'm in the dimly lit, windowless room again tied to the metal chair. The light bulb isn't caged this time, but it's hanging from a long chord. It's swaying back and forth, casting its yellow glow erratically around the room. A man behind me grabs my head back and I'm forced to look into his dark black eyes and his upside down face. His normally grim mouth is shaped like an evil sneer, and I can feel a cold knot of fear forming around my heart.

Jian Xie.

He grins at me, but when he opens his mouth, all I can see are maggots crawling around between his teeth.

I feel the bile starting to build up in my stomach, but just before I feel it in my throat he lets me lower my head. The light bulb swings madly around causing an almost strobe light effect as it casts its shadow about the room. 

In front of me now though is Sydney, huddled in the corner, with her arms wrapped around her legs rocking herself back and forth. Her pale face is looking up at the ceiling, but her eyes are closed. Blood is flowing down her face where tears should have been.

I feel the bile boiling in my throat.

I think I'm going to choke on it. 

No, no, no…not again…not again, I scream to myself.

She moves her face towards me as if to accuse me because I didn't stop them. But thankfully she doesn't open her eyes. Because I know what is behind them now, nothing. There is nothing there but empty sockets and blood. 

I know. I know because I've seen it before…

I scream out loud as Sydney moves her arm towards me and I know that she is going to open her eyes. I don't think I can stand to see it again.

Darkness envelops me and I race towards it and the relief that it promises.

…

I feel myself shivering uncontrollably as consciousness hits me, but thankfully this time I am in full darkness once again. I feel my face upon a warm lap and before I can stop myself I am pushing myself up and running my hands along her.

"Sydney, I'm sorry….I'm so sorry, oh my god, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop them, I didn't even see them doing it, by the time I found out it was just too late, I'm so sorry…" I'm sobbing as my hands find her face and feel her hair but my body is still shivering madly.

"Sark, what's wrong? What are you talking about?"

It's more the calmness in her voice that lets me dare to hope that she's ok, rather than her words…I don't really hear her words. I force myself to bring my hands across her face and across her eyes, and I can still feel her eyeballs under her eyelids. My thoughts are disjointed, but I briefly wonder if it was my eyes that were gouged out of their sockets and that's the reason why I can see nothing but darkness. 

I bring my hand up to my face and feel around, but everything feels as it should.

Sydney follows my hand movement with hers and now her hand is also moving across my face. A sob escapes my throat as I picture the image of blood flowing down her face. 

"Shhh…" she says gently as she tries to comfort me, but I leave my hand on her face and bring my face forward so that my forehead is leaning on hers.

It's ok. She's fine. It's not my sister all over again.

She's fine.

We stay like that for a few minutes before my body starts to calm down. The shivers still randomly rack my body, but after a few minutes, I am able to sit back and take a deep breath.

"What happened?" she asks me with concern in her voice.

"I…" I want to respond, but I'm not really sure how. It doesn't make any sense. "Did they come and take me away again?"

I can feel her nod and that's when I realize that I still have my hand on her face. Reluctantly I remove my hand and place it on my lap.

It wasn't real. It didn't happen.

"I could have sworn it was real."

"What?" she asks.

So I tell her. The image is so fresh in my mind that I don't think I will ever forget it.

"Why would you hallucinate about me loosing my eyes?"

I want to cry, I feel so unstrung. But I force myself to take a few deep breaths and to try desperately to hold on to the last vestige of the shell that I had built for myself.

My voice sounds far away when I answer her, but I take it as a good sign. "I told you that my family died when I was ten, but really my family was murdered. It was a hit from the local mob because of some shady dealings that my father had. I was playing at a friend's house that day. When I came home, I found my mother dead in the kitchen and my father was gone. There was blood everywhere."

She lets me pause without interrupting me. "But the worst of it was when I found my sister in her bedroom. She was sitting in the corner rocking herself back and forth as blood ran down her face. I cried out to her, and she turned to me and that's when I saw that they had burned out her eyes. They had blinded her so that she couldn't see who they were. It was their form of mercy by letting her live."

I laugh a short, bitter laugh. "She died on the way to the hospital."

I hardly notice the silence as I am trapped reliving the hell from my childhood. I hardly notice that she's taken up my hand and how she's holding it gently.

"I'm sorry," she whispers to me.

We stay like that for some time, sitting on the floor of our prison, her hand holding mine and my head leaning back against the metal wall. She lets me put myself back together as best as I can.

Finally, minutes or hours later, I can string my thoughts together in a somewhat coherent manner. "I haven't thought of that memory in years. For several years after that night, I couldn't remember it at all and then slowly throughout my teens, more and more would come back to me at odd times. I think that is part of the reason why I was so eager to join up when they recruited me. They promised me that I would learn how to control all aspects of myself. They were right. I excelled at the training. I learned how to deal with my family's death and move on from it."

"But they somehow forced you to relieve it now," she says shrewdly.

"Yes." And that's what scares me the most. "They were able to pull up a memory of mine that was buried very deeply. If they keep this up, which I am sure they will, they will be able to pick apart my brain in no time."

I hear her sigh. She rubs the back of my hand gently. "Well relax now, while you can. I will stand guard and make sure they don't come and take you away while you are sleeping."

I know that she's just saying that. There would be little she could do if they decided to come for me again, but I smile just the same. I'm too exhausted to stop myself from liking the idea of trusting her with my sanity and my life.


	14. Day 16 A Cruel Choice

**Day 16 – A Cruel Choice**

Consciousness comes to me slowly today, allowing me to wake up without stirring and thereby not disturbing Sydney. It's hard to think of memories with no sight to associate them with, but I remember falling asleep yesterday with her in my arms. 

She had started out being the one that was comforting me by holding my hand gently in hers. But it was wet and rainy last night, and her chattering teeth woke me before the thunder and rocking of the boat did. She had fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder, but it was obvious that the contact was providing minimal warmth to her. So I gently gathered her in my arms and turned her so that she could sleep on my chest with her legs off to the side and my arms wrapped around her.

There's part of me that could get used to waking up like this.

Except for the bone chilling dampness around us.

And her tangled and matted hair that I feel when I try and soothe her head.

And my shattered ankle that still sends shooting pain up my leg when I move it.

And the nightmares that haunt me now.

But then if it wasn't so miserable here would she still have found her way into my arms? 

What a cruel choice. Should I wish that this never happened or not?


	15. Day 17 Haunted By Demons

**Day 17 — Haunted by Demons**

Today was a nice day, considering the situation. Sydney and I talked quietly about irrelevant things. I told her odd stories and situations that I had encountered over the last few years and she told me about her school. We steered clear of topics that involved pain and death so needless to say, she spoke more than I did. But she asked me questions about her mother and I told her. I told her how she up and disappeared six months ago and how I have not heard from her since. 

I don't know why Irina Derevko went into hiding when her organization was at the height of its power, but then there are many things about Sydney's mother that I do not understand. I said as much to her as well.

"Irina Derevko is, I don't know, a woman who operates on so many levels. I don't know how she keeps it all straight."

"Funny, I would have thought the same about you."

I laugh quietly. "I suppose. Perhaps that's why we got along as well as we did. But for all the single mindedness that she displayed when pursuing a goal, she was also a woman haunted by many demons. She kept them to herself, but they would still make their presence known every once in a while."

Somewhat like me, I think, but she is kind enough not to say it.

"She actually found me out you know."

"What?"

"Before she left. She called me into her office and pulled out a thin red file folder. Inside wasn't much information, but enough for her to know exactly who I was and who I was working for."

"What happened?"

"Not much actually. She questioned me mercilessly about my real life and my intentions and so on. I decided to take the honest approach in the hopes that I could convince her that my loyalties could be bought, making me a double agent for her. She said she wasn't interested in that. Instead she told me that she wanted me to continue as her employee, such as I was and to infiltrate Arvin Sloane's organization to help her destroy to Alliance."

"When she let me go that night, I thought she had just placated me so that she could kill me at her convenience. I contacted my handlers and requested an extraction. They denied it and told me to go ahead with the plan, to see where it led. The next day Irina was gone. It made no sense to me then and still doesn't. But I did what they wanted me to do. Now here I am."

Silence settles for a moment, as I look around the darkness. 

Here I am. 

"Here I am as well," she replies softly.

Indeed. 

Here we are.


	16. Day 18 Eighth of an Inch

**Day 18 – Eighth of an Inch**

She fell asleep in my arms again last night. It was probably the best sleep she's had since this horrible ordeal began, simply for the fact that I didn't hear her teeth chattering once. And I have to admit to myself that it felt nice to have her there and not just because of the peace it brought to my ears.

But now I am awake, though I'd might as well not be for all that I can see. And I can hear Sydney sleeping soundly against me. My body is stretched out flat against the hard floor and I have my left arm propped under my head for a pillow. My right arm is securely around her and her head is resting on the space between my chest and bicep. Her body is stretched out and completely against mine to take advantage of as much body heat as possible. When I tried to shift my hips a little while ago, she unconsciously shifted as well, following my body with hers. 

I didn't shift again.

But now that I'm awake I doubt that I will be able to fall asleep again. All I can do is lie here motionless and feel her along every inch of my body. Her head is heavy on my chest. Her arms are tucked between her body and mine so that I am enveloping her completely. Except for her legs. Her legs are stretched out, completely against mine. I tucked my injured ankle back and out of the way but other than that I have no relief against her heat. She shifts her left thigh between my legs, no doubt to warm it up better. 

But her thigh feels taut through the thin material of our utility pants. We chose our clothing for its function this mission. We were supposed to be meeting dealers that had procured a Rambaldi artifact that they were interested in selling. The meeting was to take place at the Los Angeles Docks. So we chose black clothing, to look more intimidating and material suitable for having to chase delinquent dealers around a dirty warehouse, if it came down to that.

But the material is not so thick that I can't feel the pressure of her thigh against mine.

I force my mind onto something else. At least I figured out what she used to tie up my ankle and my broken finger; she ripped the sleeves off of her shirt. I can hardly complain that she's now chosen to hide her arms between our bodies. She must be very cold.

It doesn't take much for my mind to wander back to the fact that our bodies are separated by material perhaps only an eight of an inch thick. 

Her leg tucked tightly between my legs. 

Her body pressed closely against mine. 

Her hair tickling my face.

My arm encircling her small torso.

Her breaths against my chest.

My mind starts to imagine the possibility of a different time and place; of lying like this under a warm sun with sand instead of metal for a bed, a soft ocean in the distance bringing a pleasant breeze towards us. 

My body against hers. Her legs between mine. 

My legs between hers. My hands in her hair, pulling her head back gently to meet mine…

Oh god, this is torture.

I force myself to stop. I force myself to open my eyes and see nothing.

I force myself to breathe deeply and exhale. I force myself to do it again.

But her body is still touching mine.

Her thigh is still against mine.

With a sudden burst of energy, I quickly jerk my leg back, unable to stand the pressure any longer, but I can't move it far enough. I jar my foot into the wall.

A blinding pain shoots up from my ankle through my leg, almost distracting me from the woman now waking in my arms.

But I force myself to freeze as awareness comes to her, allowing her to feel the intimacy of our embrace.

She freezes when she realizes it.

She recovers quickly and untangles herself from me, pausing only after we are no longer touching. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.

I respond before I can stop myself. 

"I'm not." My voice is quiet and I'm surprised at how low it sounds.

I don't hear her moving away from me, and I can't stop my hand that is reaching out to touch her. It finds her arm and travels up it slowly. I can feel her bare arms with my fingertips. 

My hand follows her arm up to her collarbone and up her neck until I have her face cradled in my hand. I can't stop myself from closing the distance between us and finding the other side of her neck with my mouth. But it all seems to be happening in slow motion. 

I use my lips to travel up the opposite side of her face that my hand did, caressing and tasting the soft skin of her neck. But there's more. My lips work their way up to her head and as I breathe softly into her ear, I can feel her melt more into my hand, like the muscles of her neck have suddenly decided to relax.

She lets me continue the trail that my lips have started and I follow her jaw line down to her mouth. There have been no kisses, no words, just caresses and breaths but I want more, more than I've ever wanted anything before.

My lips find hers and again it's more of a caress than a kiss. But I am not content with that. I find her lower lip and kiss it and then repeat the same to her upper lip. She does not open her mouth but her breathing is quicker and I can tell that she's not upset.

I move to kiss her more directly but as I start to put pressure on her mouth she pulls away. 

"Wait," she says breathlessly. Her voice sounds as low as mine just did.

I don't want to.

She scrambles back, away from me, and all I am left with is empty space in front of me.

"Sydney—" I call out to her, but all I can hear is her pacing back and forth. 

Back and forth.

A ball of anger starts to form in my stomach and it carries all the way to my hand. I find a small measure of relief by slamming my fist into the wall. 

The sound reverberates through our small prison.

My broken finger hurts much worse now and she doesn't speak to me for the rest of the day.


	17. Day 19 Assumptions

**Day 19 – Assumptions**

I don't know if I slept much last night or whenever. My internal clock is starting to falter and the concept of distinct days has lost its meaning. 

But I do know that we must almost be there.

I'm still angry and frustrated, but my ankle prevents me from walking around and at least venting some energy. My finger is quite swollen from yesterday. I've heard Sydney moving around; pacing, and fidgeting. At least I can take some measure of satisfaction in the fact that she appears to be as restless as I am.

After a while I feel her hand on my shoulder. "Sark—"

But I shake her hand off of me. "What?" I try to sound angry but it comes out more tired than I intended.

"About yesterday…"

"Forget about it. I don't want to be some kind of a dilemma for you." I practically spit out the words.

"Dilemma?" she asks.

I turn around to face her though I can't see her. I guess some habits are just too hard to break. "I thought you wanted it as well but I guess I was wrong. That's fine. I don't want to be something you have to convince yourself of. Or even worse, I don't want to be some kind of charity for you."

"That's not…That wasn't the problem."

"So what are you talking about?" My voice is sharp and my anger clear.

She sighs and sits down next to me. "You would think that since it's been over two weeks I would be used to living in this darkness, but I'm not. Though I've accepted that I can't see, I still feel like you can. I guess I feel like, since I am thinking about things so often, you should be able to tell how I feel, but really how can you? You can't see me either."

I'm not sure what she's trying to say, but against my better judgment, I can feel hope slowly replacing my anger. "What are you trying to say?"

"That I was worried about you rejecting me."

"For god's sake Sydney why?"

She pauses for a moment. "Unless it is all a part of your act, and I don't think that it is, you are a man who always has everything exactly the way that you like it. You like the best of everything; wine, cars, clothes and I suspect women as well. You know exactly what your self worth is and it is like you will accept nothing less. Well especially at the moment, I feel so very less than perfect."

I am confounded. Is she insecure about the very reasons that make me want her? Because she is the best? Because she is more than I ever expected to find in another human being? Because I won't settle for anything less than her?

She continues. "I just don't know how you feel. You keep your thoughts and feelings so enclosed within you."

"Sydney—" I don't know what to say. "You are partly correct. I am very picky when it comes to choosing something for myself. Why then wouldn't I want you? You are smart, beautiful, courageous, and witty. You are sexy as hell and except for your tenacity when it comes to spiting me you are the perfect woman. Why would I reject you? I am the one that's unworthy in this case."

I hear her inhale sharply, but she doesn't speak right away. "You make me feel so foolish about this, but I couldn't handle things going any further and then having you push me away in disgust. We've been here for two and a half weeks, with nothing but the clothes on our backs and half a pail of disgusting water to drink out of." She pauses as if trying to gather her courage to go on. "Trust me, I don't feel like a human being…let alone like a woman worth being made love to." She tumbles out the last sentence quickly, like she is afraid to let the words reach my ears.

Part of me is shocked that she could think that of me, but then I remember that perhaps I am guilty of making the same assumption that she did. She assumed that I could read her emotions in her body language and perhaps I've done the same. Really all she knows about me is everything she learned prior to our capture and since then, only the things that I have told her.

Well perhaps it's time I showed her.

I lean forward and encircle her with my arms. She has a small body but her muscular build gives her some weight. All the same, I like the idea of showing her that I can pick her up with my arms. I put her in my lap before leaning over her and gently laying her back on the ground. My injured hand is cradling her head while my other hand quickly slips under her untucked shirt and rests on her waist.

"Sydney, Sydney." I whisper into her ear. "I wish I could make love to you on satin sheets with rose petals to tickle you with and champagne on ice beside us because that is what you deserve. You deserve so much more than my sweaty, dirty hands ripping off your clothes. But I can't—" I stop that thought before it goes any further. I don't want to think about the future and all that it will and will not hold. I realize that I am grasping her waist tightly but this time she shushes me. She lays her cold hand on my face and that is all the invitation that I need.

Because really, I am an animal. The fancy clothes, the fine wines, they are just part of the outer shell of a man who tries to anesthetize his life of blood and torture; pain and death. 

They are only the disinfectants that I use to try and sterilize my life with. Because I need my life to be clean and precise. I need it to be cold and unattached. Like a surgeon cutting away a tumor from healthy flesh, I need to separate my life from myself. In my life, I need to not feel.

But now I want to taste the sweat upon her neck. The sweat is there from her exertion. I want to touch her skin and feel the scab from the scar across her cheek. Her skin is soft and that scar is an intruder. I want to touch all of her, the real her. Not the disinfected her.

I want to feel something real for the first time in so very long. 

My hand moves up from the spot on her waist to cup her breast. She's not wearing a bra so I can feel her skin directly under my palms. I'm surprised, but not really. It was probably chafing her.

She moans softly as my calloused hand scratches her soft breast and I lay my kisses down her neck. This is it. This is me. In all my fine glory. I am dirty and sweaty, broken and dying, holding her tangled hair in my hand so that I can move her face towards me. So that she can't pull back this time when I kiss her. I keep our mouths closed, mindful of her insecurity, but it's enough that I can feel her lips under mine. The kiss is sweet heaven and I know that I am an animal. 

But that's okay.

It's okay because I can feel her trembling as I lift her shirt and twist her sweet nipple with my mouth. I can feel her shivering as I undo her pants and slide my hand into her underwear.

I am an animal because I can feel her jerk when my hand touches her sweet flesh. I can hear her cry out as I tease her with my finger tips; around and around, alternating flicking and pressing.

I am an animal because I can feel, as my steel armor come crashing down around me. She moans as I slip two fingers inside her. I can feel and I want to revel in it.

She stops me by pulling my hand out from her pants so that she can remove them altogether before tugging at mine. There is an urgency to her movements that I can't resist. I let her remove my pants and push me back but the wall is now behind me so she has to be content with me sitting up against it.

I don't think it bothers her too much. She doesn't waste much time before moving herself so that she is sitting on top of me. She teases me mercilessly by rubbing herself along my already painful erection, but that doesn't last very long. Not as the final vestige of my control shatters and I grab her hips and force herself up so that I can enter her, all in one swift movement.

Oh, sweet heaven.

I want to stop and memorize everything, I want to permanently imprint this all into my soul but it just seems to be happening too fast now…or maybe it's just that I cannot concentrate…

But that doesn't matter. I can feel her rocking back and forth on me. I can hear her moans in my ears. I can feel her shallow breaths on my face. I move my hand back to the place she liked it the most and I help her along. But oh, it doesn't take much.

She leans back slightly to give me more access to her so I take advantage of it and tease her with my fingers. All it takes is a few sharp strokes before she grabs my shoulders and starts to dig her nails into my body. I can wait no longer. I pull her towards me in a fierce embrace before I start thrusting violently into her. I know I shout her name as I feel myself exploding within her, and I know that she is shouting as well.

…

We lie there for a few minutes; me sitting against the wall with my arms around her, Sydney leaning on my chest. My body growing limp inside her. We are drained and exhausted, but for the first time in so very long, I find feelings in myself that I had almost forgotten about.

Contentment.

Fulfillment.

Peace.

And not for the last time, I wonder why I waited so long to find them again.


	18. Day 20 Consequences

**Day 20 - Consequences**

I wake up alone this time, with my face against the hard floor. It takes a moment for me to recall all that has happened, and even then it only comes back to me in fragmented pieces. I quickly move around to check the space beside me, but she's not there. 

A sharp pain in my head makes me draw my hand up to my temple. I can feel the blood in my hair because it is wet and matted, but the injury is not my primary concern.

I can't stop the bubble of panic that is suddenly rising within me. What if they've finally taken her?

No, no, no…

Not now. Not now. Not ever. 

There's no way I can walk around our cell to see if she has just crawled into a corner and fallen asleep. My only option is to call out to her.

I wait a few minutes and strain my hearing to see if I can pick up on any noise that would indicate another person. I can't hear anything. The silence is almost mocking me. Daring me to call out to her.

"Sydney?"

My voice echoes eerily, but the silence that follows informs me that I am indeed alone.

No!

She's gone. They came and took her away.

"NO!" I scream out to the empty prison. I realize that I'm shaking, but I don't know if it's from anger or despair.

They took her away!

I wasn't able to stop them…

I bang my head back against the wall in the hopes that the pain will stem the flow of my nightmares as my brain calls to mind all the things that they are likely doing to her. 

Things that I predicted.

Things that I tried to convince her to do.

I feel like vomiting.

But the pain of banging my head is not enough. My head is screaming at the assault, but it doesn't block away the pain in my chest at the realization of all that has come to pass.

I guess that a part of me had dared to hope.

And now I'm paying dearly for that hope.

I scream at the guards that I assume are standing outside of my prison, but they ignore me. They offer me no outlet for my pain.

All I hear are the echoes of my own profanities.

No No No No!

NO!

…

Time has passed since I first woke up, but I am not sure how long. 

Minutes? Hours? Days? I don't know.

My throat is raw and my head is throbbing but at least I have achieved a state of numbness where no further pain is possible. I have accepted my fate because I knew it all along. Some things are never meant to be and some things cannot be changed. 

At least she's free now. She must be.

Suddenly the door clangs open and my eyes are assaulted by the bright light from outside. I automatically bring my arm up to try and shield my head and eyes as I brace my body for more punishment. 

But she must be free. That's all I have to remember. She's going to be okay. And now they've come back for me. But that's okay. If they've come back for me then she must be free of them.

She's free.

"Sark!" a sharp, familiar voice calls out to me as cool hands grasp my torso and try to force me to stand up. "Come on Sark, stand up!"

I force my eyes to open even though the bright light causes them to sting.

It's Sydney. With her pale, ghost like face and the scar across her cheek. 

Her eyes are like dark beads of burning fire.

It takes a moment for the consequences of this reality to settle in my head, but eventually they do. She's here. She didn't get away. There will be consequences for her actions, and I can't stop the next thought from forming instantly in my brain.

What the hell has that fool woman done now!

"What are you doing?" I demand from her though it's obvious. She's trying to put my arm around her shoulders so that she can act as my crutch.

"I'm getting us both out of here! Now help me, we've got to hurry."

I force my anger back, and myself up, but I have no choice about using her to help me walk. There's no way that my ankle can support much weight.

She indicates the direction that she wants us to go and I comply. I'm sure that I will have more to say in a moment when her fool plan becomes clearer, but at the moment I am at her mercy.  The container that served as our prison is stacked high on top of several others, accessed only by a catwalk that connects to an upper deck of the boat. I look around but there are no guards or deckhands about, except for one guard sprawled on the ground, just off of the catwalk. His throat has been slit and blood is pooling around him. 

Other than that, the bridge is deserted.

As we make our way to the right, I see men down below, shouting and yelling at each other as they run about. They are in a panic, but they are not looking up at us. I want to ask her what she did to clear the way, but she offers me no chance. She's forcing a fast pace upon me; it's all I can do to keep up with her. 

As we approach the side of the upper deck, a great explosion rocks the boat, throwing us down onto the floor.

Sydney curses and runs up to the railing. She looks down and then back at me. I notice splashes of blood on her face and arms.  I manage to crawl over to her.

"Sydney, what the hell have you done?" I yell at her as the boat lists back and forth.

She looks at me with fire in her eyes. "I set fire to the engine room, you son of a bitch. Now get up. We have to jump."

I can feel my eyes slanting with rage. "What the hell is your problem?"

She squares herself at me. "Is that the only reason you had sex with me? So that you could entice the guards to come and have a look? It certainly didn't take them long to come and get me!"

My anger feels like it is boiling the blood in my veins. I try and hold onto it. Anger is good. Anger pushes away the cold knot of nausea that was starting to form in my stomach whenever I looked at her and thought of what they did. So I focus on it. 

"Maybe you might want to move along with your plan before we go down with the ship. Or did you not think that far?" I snarl back at her, forcing her anger to remain focused.

Anger is good. We can use it. It can help us get out of here alive. 

It is so much more useful than…

…hope.

I force her up onto the railing and then she helps me. The ship is starting to tilt towards the stern and we are running out of time. I stare down at the cold sea below. We're at least forty feet in the air. I look ahead and see the shore not too far in the distance. Well, far being a relative term, I guess. I turn back to her. We have to jump. She nods quickly and starts her countdown to three. I brace myself as I put weight on my mistreated ankle.

"One…" I look at her. Then look away.

"Two…" I can feel her look at me.

"Three.." I grab her hand and close my eyes.

The only good thing I can say about the jump into the ocean is that the salt hardly stings my wounds compared to the frigid temperature of the water.


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

We collapse exhausted on a deserted beach, not too far from the docks. If I look back towards the ocean I can still see the burning ship, as it continues to sink in the bay. The sun is setting in the distance, but I can hardly think about the coming night. We must have swum for over five hours. Though the distance was not so great, we couldn't exactly swim straight ahead towards the docks. Nor is either of us really at peak performance either. So we swam along the shore, pacing ourselves, always trying to keep each other in sight.

I turn over onto my side so that I can spit out the retched taste of sea water. Sydney is lying not too far from me, coughing up sea water as well. Funny, when I daydreamed about holding her on the beach, this is not quite what I had in mind.

But this is it. I look at her in the light of the setting sun and I know that there are no more pretenses between us. 

Even the anger is long gone, washed away by our baptism in the sea.

So what happens now?

"So what do we do now?" she asks after her coughing fit subsides.

"We call SD-6 and go home." I answer, knowing that that is not what she meant.

But the truth of the matter is that is the only answer I can give her. We both have jobs to do that we can't walk away from. The darkness and finality of our confinement made it so much easier for us to strip away our masks, but I look at her pale face now and I know. We are facing each other naked now and I can feel the enormity of it weighing down on me.

Nothing can change between us from what it was before this all started. It would end up being deadly.

But I'm not sure I know how to keep her out now. She's pierced a part of me I thought was impenetrable.

I watch her stand shakily, her feat sinking down into the sand. She walks over to me and offers me a hand so that I can stand, but I only stare up at her.

She is trying to slip the mask back on, but it is a poor fit now. Finally she gives up and looks at me one last time with an honest face. "Let's go Sark. You have to do what you have to do, and so do I. You are right. Things must go on. I don't know how, but somehow they must."

We need to enclose ourselves again within ourselves and move on, I try to tell myself.

There's really no other way.

I finally take her hand and she helps me up. My ankle is in more pain now than before. The exertion of swimming has taken its toll. I can hardly stand up. She lets me put my arm around her again so that she can help me walk along, but I don't stop there. With my outside hand I reach across my body and hers and pick up her outside hand, holding it tight.

We start walking towards the road we can see up ahead.

She's right, I know. I'm right. We must go on. 

But, the question is, can I close myself off again? She is a part of me now.

I am just going to have to enclose a piece of her in my heart forever.

At least there I know she will be safe, against whatever else may come.

The End.

_A/N: Thanks for all the comments so far. I really appreciate them. The sequel is Exposed Spaces and will be posted in chunks every few days like this one was._


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